I took so many photos when we went to Bagan, and these are the last of the lot - my final favorites. I love that they're bathed in the orange glow of the Burmese afternoon sun, or otherwise steeped in shadow from within the halls and corridors of the ancient temples that surrounded us for three days.
On our last day, I thought I had had enough of the temples, opting to spend our final afternoon in the cool shelter of our hotel. As the sun set and dusk approached, we rode a van that took us out of the archaeological complex to the bus stop, where we would take an overnight trip back to Yangon. I caught a glimpse of the temples as we drove past and felt a sense of great panic at the realization that it was the last time I would catch a glimpse of them. I don't know why I felt it, a sense of sadness tinged with great regret that I did not spend the time I had that afternoon for one final moment around the temples. It was irrational, and a tad too dramatic, and it was the worst feeling of separation anxiety I have had in any of my trips. I must've really fallen in love with Bagan to have felt that way.